


Seasons

by WhatsHappeningCowboy



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: M/M, Snippets, shameless fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2017-08-03
Packaged: 2018-11-18 21:57:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11299656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatsHappeningCowboy/pseuds/WhatsHappeningCowboy
Summary: Spring, Summer, Autumn, Winter. Four short fics covering different seasons in Chiv and MacCready's relationship.





	1. Summer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ‘I think I was born in the summer,’ he added, and Chiv slowly lowered his beer.
> 
> ‘What’d’you mean, you think you were? You don't celebrate your birthday?'
> 
> 'Nope,' MacCready said. 'I got dropped at Lamplight in the winter, and I was a few months old. So I gotta be a summer baby, I figure. But birthdays weren't a good thing, just meant one year closer to being kicked out. So I never much liked them, anyway.'
> 
> And for him, that was the end of that. But Chiv remained staring thoughtfully out over the river, turning his bottle over in his hands, the slow gleam of an idea forming in his eyes.
> 
>  
> 
> Dedicated to [Shubbabang!](http://shubbabang.tumblr.com/) Happy Birthday Shelby, I hope you enjoy this little slice of summery birthday fluff, and that you have a lovely day!

‘What was summer like before the War?’

Chiv tilted his head, rolling his almost empty Nuka Cola between his hands. The sweating glass left a wet smear across his palm that he raised to rub across the back of his neck, cooling down the hot skin there, stray droplets trailing down his bare back to soak into the waistband of his ragged jeans. They were down by the river that encircled Sanctuary, the late-June air hanging thick and heavy over them, making them lazy and lethargic. Red Rocket had been sweltering, the heat rising in visible shimmers from the forecourt, the cracked tarmac sticky and sweating beneath their feet; so they’d abandoned the garage mid-morning, hastily thrown together a cooler of Nuka-Cola and whatever food they could find, hauled it through the woods down to the river. Jeans rolled up to their knees, shoes and socks discarded, they’d waded across, groaning in relief at the cool swirl of the water against their bare legs.

They’d found a shaded spot far along the bank, away from the settlement itself; hauled themselves up onto the tumbledown wall, hands sweaty and sliding on the stone as they scrambled up. Chiv had reached back down, pulled MacCready halfway up; then let him go, laughing as he splashed back down into the river, laughing even harder when he yelled cut-off curses and insults up at him as he dragged himself drenched and fuming up the bank. He’d dried quickly in the sun, though, only grumbling for a few minutes more before pulling his cap down over his eyes and dozing off sprawled on the scrub grass. Chiv had woken him with a drink a little while later, and now they sat side by side, feet dangling down into the current, thighs pressed companionably together despite the sticky heat.

Summer before the War, huh? Chiv hummed thoughtfully, considering his answer. The seasons had changed with the War, that was something of note; the winters bitingly cold, gnawing right down to the bone, whilst the sun above them now would be better suited to some far-flung desert on the other side of the world. Chiv had no great grasp of science, couldn’t have explained why; something to do with the radiation, maybe? But that wasn’t what was most prominent in his memories when he cast his mind back; past those painful days in October to the handful of rare good years he’d experienced before. Afternoons spent tinkering with Nate in his driveway, evenings in his garden with cold beers and the tired satisfaction of a long day of work…the leaves rustling overhead, the hedges thick and hiding them from the neighbours, the chorus of birdsong from the hills behind the town...

He swallowed hard, shrugged one shoulder. How could you ever explain the _feel_ of summer?

‘It was...green.’

MacCready turned to look at him questioningly.

‘Green…?’

Chiv had brought beers - Gwinnett, the good stuff, not the Raider-made swill the bars sold - and the bottles were cooling in the current at their feet. He reached down, passed one dripping to MacCready, chipping open the cap on the tumbledown wall they perched on.

‘Yeah. The trees. And it was...louder? But quieter, too...you’d hear birds, bugs, people mowing their lawns n’ shit. It was just...peaceful.’ He laughed quietly. ‘As peaceful as my life ever got, anyway.’

MacCready hummed in response around his beer, closed his eyes and tipped his face up to the sun, leaning back on his skinny arms. He was shirtless too, skin sun-burnished and golden, a smattering of freckles starting to show along the tops of his shoulders. He sighed gently through his nose, breathed in the metallic smell of the water, the thick heady scent of the hubflower that grew on the banks opposite. The droning sounds of Sanctuary drifted down to them from the gentle slope of the hill; a generator buzzing in the distance, someone hammering at a workbench, a far-off burst of deep laughter. The sound of safety and comfort, the town alive again after so many long years of silence.

‘It’s still peaceful,’ MacCready mumbled.

Chiv supposed he was right.

Dogmeat splashed happily in the water downstream, chasing floating leaves and swirling currents; he’d stink later, but Chiv was just grateful there was something that could ease the heat for the poor hound. His thick fur coat was a blessing in the Commonwealth winters, especially when he shoved his way into the bed between them or draped himself over their feet at night; but in the summer heat it was a hindrance, leaving him slumped exhausted in the relative cool of Red Rocket’s workshop and whining every time someone passed by. Junkyard roamed the woods on the opposite bank, nose to the ground, snuffing happily in the shade of the wild mutfruit bushes. A clatter of crows burst up into the sky as she disturbed their perch, and Chiv followed their flight up into the blue, squinting and shading his eyes with a hand as they passed in front of the burning sun.

‘However peaceful it is, it’s still too fuckin’ sunny,’ he grumbled.

‘I dunno, I like it,’ said MacCready. ‘It’s better for sniping. Get a good shaded spot and you’re golden. Winter’s the worst, you can’t move so you practically freeze in place, and then your fingers stiffen up and you’re more likely to fu- to mess up the shot.’

Chiv rolled his eyes. Everything with MacCready came back down to sniping.

‘I think I was born in the summer,’ he added, and Chiv slowly lowered his beer.

‘What’d’you mean, you _think_ you were?’

MacCready shrugged one shoulder, leaning forward as Dogmeat bounded over to them, wet fur sticking up haphazardly, tongue lolling from his mouth delightedly as MacCready reached to scritch and rub at the base of his ears.

‘Well, I dunno exactly. I got dropped at Little Lamplight in the winter. Was a couple months old already at that point. So they reckoned I was a summer baby. Made sense, that my family’d managed to keep me alive through the good months, but Wasteland winters are harsh, right? ‘Specially if you’re wanderers, which I reckon they were.’

His voice was light, casual; but it had to be a sore topic, surely. He’d never mentioned his family before, rarely spoke of Little Lamplight at all other than in passing. Chiv shifted minutely closer, letting his leg swing gently and brush against MacCready’s in a quiet show of solidarity.

‘I always…’ MacCready stopped, cleared his throat, leaned his forearms on his bony knees as Dogmeat splashed away again, snapping after some invisible speck in the air. He kicked his feet lightly in the current, watching the swirl and play of the water around his legs. ‘I always thought they must’ve meant to come back for me. When things got better. They named me, they...they must’ve cared, right? They could have dumped me in Yao Guai territory and thought nothing of it but they took the time to bring me somewhere safe. That counts for something, right?’

Chiv watched him closely, but his face was impassive, giving nothing away.

‘I guess,’ he said slowly. MacCready was silent for another moment, and Chiv wondered if he should...I dunno, put his arm around him or somethin’, shit as he was at comforting people. But then the other man shrugged, and pulled a _whaddaya-gonna-do_ face, raising his beer to take another long drink.

‘Doesn’t matter, either way. They knock it out of you at Lamplight, pining after your family. The little kids all like to make up big stories about who they are and where they’re from, but you grow out of it quick. Easier to just be a Lamplighter. That’s your family now, y’know? And then when you age out, you...you make your own.’ His eyes flickered sideways to Chiv briefly, a light flush pinking his cheekbones beneath the tan. Chiv grinned at him back at him.

‘So how do you know how old you are, then? How did you have birthday parties and stuff if you didn’t know when you were born?’

MacCready laughed bitterly.

‘We didn’t. Everyone marked their birthday by the first day of the year you were found. We had this ancient terminal at the back of the caves, really old thing, useless for most stuff but Joseph managed to hook it up so we could keep a record of the year kids came to us. It’d do this...thing on the first day of every new year, a little chime thing. So that was what we all marked it by.’

‘Oh man, so you had huge parties? That’s wicked, I…’

‘No, that’s not what I mean.’ MacCready’s mouth twisted slightly. ‘Birthdays weren’t a good thing. Bad memories, for a lot of kids; not all of us got dumped as babies, some didn’t come until much older, had celebrated with families before they were orphaned or sold off or whatever. So for them, it was painful. Besides, every birthday meant another year closer to having to leave. Having to go out there and face the Wasteland. We built it up to the younger ones as a good thing, that they’d go to Big Town and meet up with all their friends and everything would be great. But...you see enough of the older kids cry on their way out the cave, enough scavenging parties coming back missing half their numbers, and you start to get the idea.’ A line had appeared between his brows. ‘Only birthday I ever marked was my sixteenth, and it was the worst day of my life.’

They fell quiet again, watching as Junkyard tentatively splashed back across the river towards them, Dogmeat trying to entice her into a game. MacCready laughed, conversation forgotten, hopped down into the shallows at the base of the wall to grab a stick and throw it as hard as he could downriver, the dogs pelting off after it immediately. But Chiv remained staring thoughtfully out across the water, biting absently at his lower lip.

‘So...you’ve never had a proper birthday?’

MacCready looked up at him, squinting against the sunlight.

‘Nope. Look, it’s not that big a deal, I...where are you going?’

Chiv had heaved himself to his feet, a curious gleam in his grey eyes, water dripping down his legs as he tucked his empty bottles back into the cooler.

‘I’m gonna...I’ve just remembered I was gonna go down to see Trudy at Drumlin. Get rid of those fusion cores we picked up the other day,’ he said, and that wasn’t a lie; they’d found a stash of five in an old military waystation, ammo case half-hidden beneath a fallen wall. ‘I’ll be back this evening, should be an alright walk. Too damn hot for anything to attack me,’ he added with a laugh. MacCready raised an eyebrow, but sighed anyway, and started to reach for his cap.

‘Alright, lemme just grab my -’

‘No! No.’ MacCready paused, eyes narrowing in suspicion, but Chiv just shrugged. ‘It’s too hot, man, you stay here and relax. I’ll do it, I’ll be back before you know it.’

Well, _that_ was out of character. Normally they fought like wild dogs over who had to carry what and who was doing the most work; whose turn it was to make the boring treks to the nearest traders, _someone_ having chosen to make their home in the middle of goddamn nowhere as far from the city as possible. Something was going on here, and the little smile Chiv was fighting to keep from pulling up the corner of his mouth wasn’t doing anything to help his case.

But...it was hot. And MacCready wasn’t particularly enthused by the idea of suiting up and marching the hour or two down the dusty roads, parched and sweating in the sun…

‘Fine,’ he grumbled, and tossed his cap back up onto the wall where the dogs couldn’t get to it. ‘Just be careful.’

‘Yeah, yeah,’ said Chiv, and threw him a casual wave over his shoulder as he scooped up his shoes and waded past him back across the river. ‘I’ll see you later.’

There was something far too eager about the way he jogged up into the woods on the other bank, and MacCready watched him go with a little trepidation beginning to pool in his gut. But then Dogmeat barrelled into his legs, knocking him flat on his back in the shallows and planting his paws on his chest as Junkyard daintily dropped the retrieved stick directly onto his face; and Chiv’s strange behaviour was all but forgotten as he laughed and tussled with the dogs in the cool water, under the hot summer sun.

 

***

 

MacCready sat on the roof of Red Rocket, watched the last rays of sunlight dip below the horizon in a wash of deep purples and reds, and tried not to panic.

Chiv hadn’t come back.

And yeah, okay, it had been a hot day so maybe he was waiting for the air to cool before he made the trek home. Maybe he’d stopped a lot more frequently for shade and water so it had taken him longer than usual. Maybe he’d gotten waylaid by someone with that uncanny knack he had for finding trouble. Hell, maybe he was still haggling with Trudy; she’d always seemed steadfastly resistant to Chiv’s charms, resisting even his most dazzling grin and dark-eyed smoulder as he tried to wheedle every single cap he could for his trade. There were a thousand and one reasons he could be late coming home.

None of which seemed very convincing as the last of the light finally disappeared, MacCready’s silhouette illuminated by neon glow of the Red Rocket statue as he chewed nervously at his lip.

Well, screw it. Waiting around here doing nothing was only gonna make him more anxious; and besides, it was still far too hot to sleep anyway. Chiv was probably halfway home already, and would laugh at MacCready’s paranoia when they met in the streets of Concord, pack full of caps and mouth full of wisecrack remarks. But he could take the inevitable teasing if it would give him peace of mind. There’d been far too many moments in the past where he’d been left helpless whilst Chiv grappled with danger...and after all, he thought with a little burst of pride, I’m the best damn hired gun in the Commonwealth. And despite everything, Chiv _is_ still technically my employer. What sort of job am I doing if I don’t protect my boss?

 _What sort of job are you doing letting him go off alone in the first place?_ whispered the little voice in the back of his mind; but he chose to ignore that, and with a quiet groan heaved himself up from the roof to fetch his gun.

The walk was pleasant enough, the bright summer moon casting the roads into a soft relief but leaving enough shadow for MacCready to feel comfortable and unwatched as he slipped through the deserted streets of Concord. Night had brought with it a cooling breeze, whispering softly over his skin, but the pavements and roads still held the baking heat of the day, and he’d forgone his jacket in favor of one of Chiv’s spare t-shirts. He was banking on finding him soon; yeah, he’d spent plenty of nights out under the stars in his time, but even in home territory the idea of deliberately choosing to sleep so exposed made him uncomfortable, and the t-shirt wouldn’t be enough to keep him warm if he had to stop for the night.

_Stop that, you’re gonna find him, he’s probably right around the next bend, humming that stupid Wanderer song like he always does and not even realising anything’s wrong._

MacCready shivered as a particularly cold breeze washed over his bare arms, and picked up his pace just the slightest bit.

 

***

 

Drumlin Diner hadn’t seen him all day.

‘He didn’t…? But he said he was…’

‘Look, I ain’t seen him in weeks,’ grumbled Trudy, rubbing tiredly at one eye. ‘So much for loyal customers. You Minutemen lot never -’

‘But he said he was coming here! Where else would he...not even a caravan?’

MacCready was chewing his lower lip to ribbons, brows twisted up in worry, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as his fingers tapped an anxious drumbeat on his rifle. Trudy’s expression softened slightly, and she sighed, relenting.

‘Look. That engineer from Sanctuary, with the hair. He’s been over at Starlight for the past few days. Maybe your friend passed by there?’

That made sense. The handyman had been down at the Starlight Drive-In tinkering with some project or another for the past week; he’d popped in to Red Rocket the day before yesterday to borrow a particular wrench and talk shop with Chiv. MacCready, who couldn’t have taken apart a desk fan to save his life, had rolled his eyes and left them to it. But Starlight was only a short distance from here. Maybe Chiv had bumped into a caravan trader on the way down, and decided to forgo Drumlin entirely in favour of visiting Sturges. That had to be it.

And if it wasn’t, well...he’d work that out when it came to it.

‘You’re welcome!’ Trudy scoffed as he darted for the door, and he yelled a hasty, half-sincere ‘thank-you!’ over his shoulder as he loped off down the road towards the old drive-in theatre. As he jogged, he gritted his teeth and tried to push down the first tendrils of fear creeping up his spine.

Chiv had better have a goddamn good reason for all this when he caught up to him.

 

***

 

MacCready crept carefully through the undergrowth around the edge of the Starlight Drive-In, grip white-knuckle on his rifle.

The place was quiet... _too_ quiet. Only the gentle creaking of the corroding support beams in the huge screen and the distant lowing of a wild Brahmin could be heard. There were no lights anywhere that he could see; not even a candle or a lantern, the wide open parking lot lit only by moonlight. He swallowed hard, the hot summer wind making his hands clammy on his rifle. The huge projector screen blocked out much of the breeze, and MacCready’s t-shirt was starting to stick to his shoulders with sweat; half from the heat, half from fear. Chiv _clearly_ wasn’t here, and it seemed neither was Sturges, so he should go - get away immediately, get away from the prickle of eyes on the back of his neck and the churning in his gut screaming _not-safe-not-safe_ over and over. _Why_ hadn’t he learned his lesson, to listen to his body telling him to -

In the concession stand, a tin can fell from a shelf and rolled across the floor, the clatter ringing loud and shocking in the silence.

MacCready froze, heart in his throat.

‘Chiv…?’

His voice came out cracked and small and he immediately cursed himself for speaking, for drawing attention to himself and marking his position. He waited for a moment, entire body tense in fight-or-flight mode; but there was no reply. Of course it wasn’t Chiv. But if it wasn’t him, then...god, it could be anything; Ferals, wild dogs, molerats... _or ghosts, or aliens,_ his mind helpfully provided, and he suppressed a terrified shiver. No, no, that was comic-book junk, right? Aliens didn’t...they didn’t _really_ exist. They couldn’t. It was impossible.

...right?

His hands trembled slightly on his rifle as he pushed open the door to the concession stand, the creak of rusted hinges horrifyingly loud in the still air. A set of stairs in front of him led up to the projection booth, but MacCready decided to sweep the ground floor first; no sense letting yourself be trapped on a staircase if there really was something in here. And besides, the upper floors were very, _very_ dark.

He turned his back on the stairs, gaze sweeping the concession stand with its old mugs and junk, the floor scattered with debris.

Behind him, something shifted in the darkness.

MacCready crouched low, picking his way as carefully and quietly as he could across the diner floor, rifle held low but ready, squinting in the shadows. A Nuka-Cola glass sat on the counter, a mouthful of soda still in the bottom; a freshly stubbed-out cigarette sat in an ash-tray, the scent of smoke lingering in the air. MacCready’s eyes narrowed. Did Sturges smoke?

Something clinked behind him.

He froze, eyes wide in the dark; then something grabbed his shoulder, and he screamed, turning to see a dark shape looming over him. He raised his gun instinctively, ready to shoot, fear locking down his mind and his body switching over to autopilot; but then the shadow stepped into the moonlight, and he caught the gleam of a scarred grin, the crinkle of dark-grey eyes, and his defenses dropped immediately. MacCready smacked him hard on the arm, relief coursing through him and making his knees weak even as he raged.

‘You fuckin’ _asshole!’_

Chiv was nearly crying with laughter, doubling over, hand digging into MacCready’s shoulder for support. MacCready shoved him off and folded his arms across his chest, the bridge of his nose burning with embarrassment.

‘Are you done?’

‘The fuck were you _doing?’_ Chiv managed to wheeze after a moment, MacCready glaring at him.

‘Looking for _you,_ you jerk!’ he half-yelled, heart pounding so hard in his chest he could feel himself swaying with the rapid beat. ‘You are a fu- freakin’ _asshole,_ you know that? I nearly _shot_ you!’

‘Yeah, well, you didn’t,’ Chiv said, with an airy wave of his hand, finally getting his laughter under control. ‘I was wondering if you’d come looking for me. Kinda hoped you’d be too lazy, but…’ He grinned crookedly again as MacCready threw him a scowl. ‘’M sorry I didn’t come back, RJ, this took longer than I’d figured it would.’

‘...what did?’ MacCready asked grudgingly, raising an eyebrow. Chiv’s smile stretched to wolfish proportions.

‘Come on, I got somethin’ to show you.’

He took MacCready’s hand in his, leading him up the stairs, MacCready muttering under his breath as he followed him up into the darkness. The projection booth was scattered with junk; wrenches, screwdrivers, wires and scrap all over the floor. MacCready kicked over a pile of desk fans with a curse, and Chiv rolled his eyes.

‘C’mon, man, Sturges only agreed to this on the condition I didn’t fuck with his stuff.’

‘Agreed to _what?’_ MacCready grumbled; but Chiv was fiddling with something on the wall, and with a loud clunk and a pop of electricity, the booth was suddenly flooded with light. MacCready squinted and threw a hand up to shield his eyes, but Chiv grabbed his hand again and pulled him out of the door onto the roof.

‘C’mon, quick!’

‘Chiv, _what…_ I… _oh._ ’

He trailed off as they made their way out onto the roof, and now Starlight was alive with light and brightness, the neon strip lighting around the edge of the diner providing them with a soft glow as Chiv led him to the edge where a ragged blanket already lay. From the booth above them, there was a whirr and a click, and then...incredibly, magically...a bright spot of light appeared on the massive screen opposite, growing larger and larger until it filled the whole space.

‘Is this…?!’

The light blurred into focus, and suddenly the title of a famous B-Movie was sprawled across the screen, speakers on the roof behind them blaring out tinny music. MacCready gasped audibly, his hand slipping from Chiv’s as he darted forward to claim the spot at the very front of the diner roof, dropping down onto the blanket with a thud.

‘ _This_ is what Sturges has been doing down here?!’

Chiv sat down beside him, legs dangling over the edge of the roof, a pleased blush spreading across his cheeks.

‘Yup. He’s wanted to do it for months. I came straight down here earlier, after you said...y’know, after you said you’d never had a proper birthday. See if it was ready. It wasn’t, not quite, but that’s what we’ve been doing all day. He’s gone back to Sanctuary...I think he, uh, got the idea we’d wanna watch it on our own,’ he added with a wink, and MacCready felt the tips of his ears turn red.

‘Jeez, let ‘em all know why don’t you,’ he grumbled, but still couldn’t quite hide the smile from his face. The credits finished rolling, giving way to a beautiful woman with perfectly coiffed hair sitting alone by the edge of a misty lake that bubbled menacingly in the background.

‘It looks like Murkwater,’ MacCready laughed. ‘Is this really pre-War?!’

‘Yeah. This was a really big one when I...before. It’s a bit choppy in places,’ Chiv added after a moment, and he seemed suddenly awkward, smile turning uncharacteristically self-conscious. ‘It’s...we had to kinda cut it together, some of the film was ruined, so it’s...it’s not gonna be perfect, but…and if you don’t like it there’s -’

‘Shut up and watch the damn movie with me,’ MacCready grinned, but his cheeks were flushed with pleasure and his eyes were sparkling good-naturedly. ‘It’s more than perfect, Chiv. Really.’

The other man grinned, eyes crinkling happily. The movie hadn’t gotten much further along - the woman had been eaten in a very gruesome fashion, and now a group of men with pitchforks were advancing on the lake - when MacCready felt Chiv’s hand slide gently around his waist and pull him close.

‘You sap,’ he muttered, but shifted to lean his weight comfortably against the other man, feeling the warmth of his body through his side and the glow of happiness in his heart as they settled in to watch the film.

MacCready didn’t think he’d ever had so much fun. The movie was laughably cheesy, the ‘terrifying lagoon creature’ absolutely nothing compared to a Mirelurk Queen; but still he watched open-mouthed, leaning forward with his chin in his hands and his elbows digging into his bony knees, laughing delightedly, completely enraptured. Before he knew it, the credits were rolling, and he was begging Chiv to put something else on, or play it again; _anything_ to keep the night going. Any thoughts of sleep were gone, his body running on pure joy and elation, and Chiv gave in with a mock-sigh, restarting the movie for a second time and grinning delightedly when MacCready snuggled back up to his side. As the monster loomed from the lake once more, he gently reached out to touch the side of MacCready’s face.

‘Hey.’

He kissed him softly, slowly, a gentle exploration of his mouth and lips and cheeks, pressing clumsy butterfly kisses to his cheekbones, his eyelids, his forehead. MacCready’s heart was ready to burst beneath his skinny ribs, hammering hard in his chest as he tilted his head and returned the kiss, deep and with as much feeling behind it as he could muster. Breathing shaky and hands trembling, they broke apart some time later, the movie all but forgotten. MacCready dropped his head to bury his face in Chiv’s shoulder, face flushed, and Chiv’s lips ghosted against the top of his head one last time as he gently squeezed him against his side. His voice was a murmur as he raised his Pip-Boy in front of them.

‘June 25th. Guess this is as good a summer day as any,’ he said, with a soft smile. ‘Happy Birthday, RJ.’

Tomorrow would be back to the grind; back to Raiders, Mutants, Ferals, back to fighting through abandoned buildings and ruined towns in search of the next adventure. But for tonight, under the warm summer moon, with the movie gently playing in the background and Chiv pressing eager kisses to his throat, they could forget all that.

Maybe birthdays weren’t such a bad thing, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m fairly sure the whole fixing-Starlight thing is a pretty unoriginal idea but also, consider this; it’s cute as fuck
> 
> Also MacCready being canonically afraid of aliens is honestly iconic and I love him
> 
> Find me on [tumblr!](http://whatshappeningcowboy.tumblr.com/)


	2. Winter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chiv loped eagerly ahead, taking the long staircase up to the stands two at a time, glancing impatiently back over his shoulder.
> 
> ‘Hurry up, RJ, I need a fuckin’ beer and to get out of these wet...I... _oh.’_
> 
> Diamond City was strung with lights, even more so than usual; blue, green, red, yellow - all flashing and sparking from one building to the next, stringing across the alleys and casting a soft glow across the market square. Huge plastic trees sat atop roofs and beside market stalls, artificial branches weighed down under gaudy baubles and ancient cracked plastic decorations.
> 
> ‘Ah, yeah. Jeez, has it been a year already? They always do this, I -’
> 
> Chiv shoved his Pip-Boy under MacCready’s nose, and he reeled back in surprise.
> 
> ‘It’s Christmas?! It’s Christmas! I fuckin’ _forgot about Christmas…!’_

‘So she’d been down there _two hundred years?_ And alone for half that time? Man, thank god she’s a robot. I can’t even imagine how that must feel if -’

‘I got some idea,’ Chiv interrupted drily, but hid a grin behind his scarf when MacCready’s expression turned suddenly bashful.

‘Uh...sorry. I…’

Chiv snickered, and MacCready’s face reddened as he dug an elbow into his ribs.

‘Shuddup. I forget, sometimes. You’re so...you just...s’like you’ve always been here. Y’know? Like we’ve always been…’ He trailed off, the flush across his cheeks deepening further as he shrugged one shoulder awkwardly. ‘Ah, you know what I mean.’

Chiv’s grin stretched to wolfish proportions as he sidled closer, bumping their shoulders together through the thick material of their winter coats.

‘No, I don’t think I _do_ know what you mean, _RJ~,_ ’ he said, voice sing-song and teasing. ‘Please tell me more.’

‘Get fu...I mean, screw off,’ MacCready laughed, leaning briefly into his warmth as they walked side-by-side down the frosted track. ‘You don’t need your damn ego stroking any more after all the praise in that Vault.’

‘Ah, but it only counts when it’s coming from you,’ Chiv said matter-of-factly, and MacCready’s mouth twitched up in an irrepressible smile as Chiv’s hand caught his, wound their bare fingers together. ‘C’mon. It’s nice to be back in the fresh air, but it’s still fuckin’ freezing. Quicker we get home, quicker we can relax and forget that shitty Vault. I ain’t setting foot back in one of them for a while, lemme tell you.’

‘Boy am I glad to hear that,’ MacCready muttered darkly. ‘Vaults ain’t exactly...they bring up a lot of bad memories.’

‘You can say that again.’

‘Boy, am I glad -’

Chiv laughed, swung a foot out behind him to catch MacCready’s calf, cutting him off as he hop-skipped to avoid it, slipping on a patch of meltwater and letting out a very creative string of curses as Chiv hauled him back up by their linked hands.

When they’d entered Vault 81, the weather had been crisp but clear; now, emerging back out into the sunlight after a gruelling fight through the subterranean darkness of the hidden Vault, the Commonwealth was carpeted with a thin dusting of white, frost sparkling on the bare limbs of the trees as they picked their way carefully down the slippery hillside towards the city. The reservoir was frozen around the edges, the reeds bent heavy over the ice, weighed down with snow. Beautiful, for sure; but the way Chiv’s Pip-Boy was clicking steadily on his wrist told them it’d be a bad move to start a snowball fight.

The city streets were mercifully empty, the Raiders and Mutants that usually infested these parts of the ruins having some goddamn common sense for once and realising there wasn’t likely to be any decent prey roaming around in the cold. Without the constant pop of gunfire in the near distance, the city seemed eerily quiet. The only sounds were the gentle groaning of the buildings and the odd _shff-thmp_ of falling snow, the quiet crunch and slosh of their footsteps, the soft whisper of their breath; every sound amplified. But, despite the prickling on the back of MacCready’s neck that never quite went away in the inner city, one very cold and wet hike later found them slipping beneath the gates of Diamond City unharmed aside from sniffly noses and numbed toes. Chiv loped eagerly ahead, taking the long staircase up to the stands two at a time, glancing impatiently back over his shoulder.

‘Hurry _up,_ RJ, I need a fuckin’ beer and to get out of these wet...I... _oh.’_

MacCready glanced up to see him framed in the opening at the top of the stairs, a silhouette made stark by the bright floodlights, body held stiff and still in surprise. MacCready forced his weary legs to push him up the last few steps, curiosity in the tilt of his head as he came up beside the other man and leaned against the wall to catch his breath.

‘What is it? Something wrong?’

‘ _Look,’_ Chiv whispered, pointing down at the city below.

Diamond City was strung with lights, even more so than usual; blue, green, red, yellow - all flashing and sparking from one building to the next, stringing across the alleys and casting a soft glow across the market square. Huge plastic trees sat atop roofs and beside market stalls, artificial branches weighed down under gaudy baubles and ancient cracked plastic decorations.

‘Ah, yeah. Jeez, has it been a year already? They always do this, I -’

Chiv shoved his Pip-Boy under MacCready’s nose, and he reeled back in surprise.

‘It’s Christmas?! It’s Christmas! I fuckin’ _forgot about Christmas…!’_

MacCready stared at the Pip-Boy, nonplussed. Chiv was pointing excitedly at the date at the bottom of the screen; and sure enough, there it was. 12-25-2288. But MacCready was more interested in the time pulsing gently next to it; 10:52pm. It was late, they’d been walking for hours, his feet were wet despite the duct-tape he’d stuck on his shoes in an attempt to keep out the worst of the slush (ignoring Chiv’s bitching about wasting resources), he was hungry and tired, and home was _right there…_

‘Uh, okay? We gonna stand here all night, or…?’

Chiv rolled his eyes with an exaggerated huff, but thankfully removed the Pip-Boy from MacCready’s face and started off down the steps towards the market square. His head flicked constantly from side to side as they walked across the ballpark grounds, staring wide-eyed at the lights and decorations. MacCready just shook his head. Christmas was an Old-World thing. Who honestly had the caps spare these days to buy everyone elaborate gifts? Were Raiders gonna take a day off in the name of the _holiday spirit?_ Heck no. Christmas died with the War; was just another example of Old-Word indulgent bullshit. But it was just like Diamond City to cling to that sort of crap; catering to the Upper-Standers, those stuck-up assholes who thought they were better than anyone else because they clung to some stupid idea that if they ignored the world outside the walls, it didn’t exist.

But then, Chiv was technically an Old-World thing too, right? And, he realised with a jolt, he’d have missed Christmas last year. He’d barely been out the Vault a couple weeks at that point, was still moping around Sanctuary, getting his ass handed to him by Raiders and wild dogs on pointless busywork Minutemen runs. He hadn’t even met MacCready, then. Wouldn’t for another few weeks again, not until his hunt for redemption brought him to Goodneighbor. Brought him to the Third Rail, stumbling half-cut into the VIP room, all flushed cheeks and big dark eyes and a charming, cocky grin lopsided around his cigarette. The clink of caps in Chiv’s pack had sealed the deal, but…even way back then...

A hand planted firmly on his chest, stopping him in his tracks.

‘Take your fuckin’ shoes off before you come in, you raised in a cave?’

‘Very funny,’ MacCready grumbled, but bent to tear off the duct tape and pull off his soaked boots anyway, tucking them behind the doorframe to dry before stepping into Home Plate.

They’d bought the big house some months ago; Red Rocket was still their home, but it made for a handy base in the city when they were in the area, and afforded them a little more privacy and comfort than the Dugout Inn could offer. (Besides, after the infamous moonshine incident back in September, they’d been tactfully avoiding the Bobrov Brothers. The smell still made MacCready want to vomit. Goddamn Chiv’s stubborn refusal to back down from a challenge). Flinging his wet coat haphazardly over the back of one of the dining chairs, he dragged himself slowly through the hall to the sofa, slumping face-down onto the soft cushions with a heavy sigh. He could hear Chiv shuffling around upstairs, hear him muttering to himself as he sorted through their packs, hear the drag-and-slam of drawers opening and closing. The lighting in this part of the house was soft, dimmed by the high ceilings of what had, at one time, been a warehouse. It reminded MacCready a little of the dim glow of Lamplight. Comforting. Safe.

Footsteps padded over, and he rolled his head just enough to squint one eye open and see Chiv standing over him, clothes dry and hair towel-rumpled but with his coat back on, watching him with a soft expression in his eyes.

‘I’m gonna go grab us some food, alright? Too late to cook. You stay here and warm up. And put some dry clothes on, you idiot, you’re gonna catch cold.’

MacCready mumbled something into the sofa cushions that sounded very close to ‘fuck off,’ and Chiv grinned at him before slipping out the front door, the lock latching behind him with a reassuring clunk.

 

***

 

Once outside, Chiv’s panic set in.

He checked his Pip-Boy again; 11:14. Fuckin’ _nothing_ was gonna be open this late except Myrna’s, and she just sold utter garbage. Chiv scruffed a hand roughly through his hair, frustrated; Arturo was pretty friendly with him, but he doubted he’d be too thrilled if he hammered on his door this late at night no matter how many caps were weighing down his pocket. _Idiot, fucking idiot,_ he growled to himself. How do you forget about _Christmas?!_

Although, in his defense, this past year hadn’t exactly been particularly  _normal._

He huffed, and headed over to Diamond City Surplus anyway, expecting Percy to be jangling his way through the store as usual; but _obviously,_ Christmas was the one goddamn day of the year they shut. Twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week selling junk and crap...except the one single day he actually wanted to shop there. Typical.

A crushing disappointment was starting to weigh down on his chest. RJ hadn’t seemed too bothered by it all, likely wouldn’t care either way, but it was the principal of it. You got gifts for the people you loved on Christmas. And for both of them, love had been in very short supply for a _long_ damn time. Hell, it’d taken them months to work up the courage to admit it, for Chiv to press that first clumsy, trembling kiss to MacCready’s lips; and even now it was a rare word, thrown quickly between them as a just-in-case whilst bullets zipped overhead, or gasped against bare skin in the darkness of the dawn hours. Besides, as much as MacCready scoffed, he could indulge a little in some pre-War ritual for once, right? He had to do _something_ to mark the day. Or what was left of it, he frowned, glancing back down at his wrist. 11:26. Fuckin’ _shit._

Well, Takahashi’s was still open, as always. Least he could do would be to get them some warm food. They’d been living off jerky and stale water in the hidden side of Vaut 81 for two days; maybe just being in a safe place, eating fresh-cooked food and being able to relax for once would be enough. A sturdy roof, a comfortable bed, MacCready sprawled against him with his breath soft and slow in the crook of his neck. Home.

The greatest gift either of them had ever been able to give the other.

Chiv’s eyes drifted up as he leaned on the counter of the noodle stand, bouncing one leg impatiently as Takahashi ladled out two bowls. Even the noodle shop was strung with bright lights; even more than usual, clashing horribly with the glowing neon sign. A plastic tree stood squatly beside the counter, the bristles of the fake pine needles scratching against his arm as he took the proffered food from the protectron. Looked like every building in the city had been decorated in the spirit of the holidays.

...well.

Every building except one.

Balancing the noodle bowls in his arms, a slow grin quirked the scarred corner of Chiv’s mouth as he turned back towards home.

 

***

 

‘ _Hey.’_

MacCready jolted awake with a gasp, eyes unfocused and bleary, cheek wet from drool. RJ always looked so damn _vulnerable_ when he first woke up, his hair sticking messily in all directions as he rubbed sleepily at one eye. He sat up slowly on the couch, dislodging Chiv’s hand from his shoulder. His wet clothes were strewn lazily across the floor, staining the concrete dark with melting snow and slush; he’d changed into dry jeans and one of Chiv’s old Nuka-World t-shirts, too big on his skinny frame, the gaudy Bottle and Cappy logo bright against the cheerful green. Chiv felt his heart tug almost painfully in his chest at the sight of him, but if his words came out a little choked, MacCready didn’t catch on.

‘Wake up, lazy ass. I got us food.’

‘’M awake,’ MacCready grumbled, still blinking tiredly, running a hand through his sleep-mussed hair as he squinted up at Chiv. ‘Freakin’ _starving,_ you better’ve got us something better than...than...’ He trailed off, mouth falling open as he glanced around the room. ‘Chiv, I...what did you _do?!’_

Chiv pushed his legs out of the way and dropped happily down onto the couch beside him, beaming proudly from ear to ear.

‘I decorated! Merry Christmas, RJ.’

The corner of Home Plate was transformed, to the best of Chiv’s limited resources. Candles ranged along the tops of the bookshelves, flickered softly on the corner tables, casting the dim room in a gentle cosy glow of light. Hastily-made paper chains were strung across the ceiling, tacked up by duct tape; made, MacCready realised as he squinted up at them, from torn-up copies of the latest issue of Publick Occurrences. He winced slightly at the thought of what Piper would do to them if she found out. On the low table before them stood two heaped bowls of noodles, steam rising in gentle spirals and filling the room with the mouth-watering scent of fresh-cooked food. Beside them sat the radio, hauled over from the kitchen, playing a tinny selection of horribly cheesy Christmas music that Travis had managed to dig up from somewhere. And behind it all, splattered on the bare concrete wall opposite the couch, was the outline of a huge green tree. As MacCready stared, mouth still crooked open in surprise, a single drip of green paint ran down the length of the wall to permanently stain the floor.

‘I tried to get fairy lights too, but Danny Sullivan spotted me so I had to drop ‘em and run. Sorry.’

MacCready’s jaw worked silently for a moment, eyes huge in his face.

‘Is that...is that _Abbot’s paint?’_

‘Only a little bit,’ Chiv replied. ‘Like he’s gonna notice.’

‘You know that’s not coming off, right?’

‘So? That’s a problem for the next guy who owns this place.’ Chiv nudged his elbow with one of the bowls from the table, pressed it into MacCready’s hands. ‘Christmas dinner! Sorry it’s not very, uh...traditional. Supposed to have ham but…’ He glanced down at his own noodle bowl. ‘Radstag chunks’ll do, I guess.’

‘What’s ham?’ MacCready asked, words muffled through a mouth already full of food, and Chiv grinned at him.

‘Never mind.’

Chiv ate fast, like always, shovelling the food down before anyone could take it away from him and then bouncing his legs against the sofa until MacCready, who was taking his own damn time with his meal thank you very much, slapped one hand down on his knee to stop him. After another few moments of twitching and impatient sighs, Chiv twisted to lean over the back of the couch, pulling up a small bundle and suddenly looking uncharacteristically nervous.

‘I, uh. Alright look. I wasn’t ready for this, I coulda done better if I’d had more time, I had to...I only had what we had in our packs so it’s not really a proper one, and...and you already knew I had it and I was gonna give it to you anyway but…and I can get you something better but I wanted you to have something today, y'know, on the proper day, and...’

MacCready glanced up in surprise, mouth full of noodles.

‘Yffm mm nf gff?’

Chiv raised an eyebrow, and MacCready rolled his eyes and swallowed dramatically, setting his bowl on the table.

‘You got me a gift?’

‘I...yeah,’ said Chiv, and after another moment’s hesitation leaned over and dumped the bundle unceremoniously into his lap. ‘It’s...it’s not…’

But MacCready was already opening it eagerly, and gasping loudly as the contents spilled out into his lap. Chiv chewed nervously at his lower lip. He’d had to cobble it together from things in his pack, digging through for anything, _anything_ that could make a worthy present. Eventually he’d come up with a bottle of Nuka-Cherry, some bubblegum, and...

‘Is this the Skullpocalypse issue?!’

A rare, genuine smile tugged the scars on Chiv’s cheek as relief flooded through him.

‘Yeah, it is. I got it from Miss Katy in the Vault. While you were getting your hair cut? Told ‘em all a nice gruesome story about deathclaws, the kids loved it. Probably shoulda downplayed the blood a little but I mean, they could see the scars, they know it’s not -’

‘You’re rambling,’ MacCready laughed, looking up from the pages of the comic. ‘I love it, Chiv. Really. Thank you.’ A moment later, though, his brows came together in a frown. ‘But I haven’t...I haven’t got anything I can give you. I thought...’ He shrugged one shoulder shyly. 'I thought this was all just Old-World bullshit, to be honest.'

‘I don't need anything from you. I already got all I need,’ Chiv grinned, cheeks flushed with pleasure as MacCready groaned aloud, trying and failing to hide his smile behind his hand. 'You still think it's bullshit?'

‘I...no. You fu...freakin’ _sap.’_

‘You like it. C’mere.’

He held out an arm, and MacCready shifted down the sofa until he was tucked against Chiv’s side, rolling his shoulders in a little snuggling movement to get as close as he could as Chiv’s arm squeezed gently around his waist. His voice rumbled softly through his side, lips pressed to the tangle of hair atop his head.

‘Merry Christmas, RJ.’

‘Merry Christmas, Chiv,’ he whispered back, tilting his head up to look at him. ‘There’s paint on your cheek.’

Chiv cocked his head, raised a hand to touch his face, and MacCready rolled his eyes.

‘Other cheek,’ he muttered, and gently reached up to swipe a thumb across the smudge of green on Chiv’s high cheekbone. His fingers brushed lightly against the scruff of hair on Chiv’s jaw, lingered over his scars as he smoothed the offending smear away; and Chiv’s hand came up to cover his, hold it in place, warm and steady as he turned his head to press a soft kiss to his palm. MacCready felt his face heating up, the bridge of his nose starting to burn red; but then another drop of paint hit the back of Chiv’s hand, and he frowned again, looking up.

Taped to the ceiling above them was a scrap of paper - it looked like one of the wanted posters from the market - scrawled with more of Abbot’s precious green paint. This time, though, it was in the shape of what looked like a bunch of leaves.

‘What’s that?’

‘Oh, yeah’ said Chiv suddenly, and there was a wicked grin hidden in his overly-light tone as he touched paint-splattered fingers to MacCready’s cheek and turned his head back to face him. ‘That. Another old tradition.’ The tip of his tongue dipped out to wet his lower lip, head tilting as his breath ghosted over MacCready’s jaw. ‘But it’s the best part of Christmas.’

‘Oh yeah?’ MacCready smirked at him, presents suddenly forgotten, falling to the floor as he shifted to press in closer, shivering as a cold hand slid up beneath the hem of his t-shirt and left goosebumps in its wake. ‘And what is it, exactly?’

Chiv’s laugh was a breathless huff against his lips.

‘Mistletoe.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based off in-game events, because despite sinking approximately 84 years into Fallout I somehow never managed to be in Diamond City at Christmas. And my first thought when stumbling across it for the first time, after 'ooh pretty lights~', was 'SHIT, I HAVEN'T GOT MACCREADY A PRESENT.'
> 
> Thank you to the wonderful [Keycchan](http://keycchan.tumblr.com/) for letting me ramble ideas at you and motivating me to keep going with that sweet, sweet OC talk!
> 
> Find me on [tumblr!](http://whatshappeningcowboy.tumblr.com/)


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